


In the Stormy East Wind Straining

by grencle (christinefromsherwood)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Annoyed Mycroft, Big Brother Mycroft, Fluff, Gen, In which little Sherlock just won't go to sleep, Kid Sherlock, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, Storytelling, i guess, sherlock being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/grencle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not a neon dertal! I'm a pirate!" The mop of black curls bounced as the 8-year-old boy shook his head vigorously.</p><p>"Well, then go find a treasure, pillage and plunder a few villages and LET ME BE!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Stormy East Wind Straining

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from ff.net
> 
> A kid-fic inspired by the new info about the Holmes brothers we got in 3x03. I hope you like reading it, I certainly enjoyed writing it.
> 
> The names for Sherlock's pirate fantasy come from Belgian comic books called Redbeard. I figured that Sherlock would have read them as a child and used the names in his games... :)

"Go to sleep, Sherlock!" Mycroft sighed exasperatedly.

"But I don't wanna!" came an adamant reply.

"Want to, Sherlock. It's "want to" not "wanna". Take care not to speak like a neanderthal, would you."

Oh, why! Why could his parents not have been satisfied with one child? Mycroft asked himself this nearly every day. He had an exam in Rhetorics in the morning, had planned to revise and if only he had been an only child, this plan would have gone ahead without a hitch.

"I'm not a neon dertal! I'm a pirate!" The mop of black curls bounced as the 8-year-old boy shook his head vigorously.

"Well, then go find a treasure, pillage and plunder a few villages and LET ME BE!"

His little brother's eyes shone at the suggestion and he ran out of Mycroft's room, slamming the door behind him as he went.

Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment and savoured the silence for a while, congratulating himself on his own cleverness. Of course, one had to be clever if one had an annoying brat of a little brother and was to make his mark upon the world before reaching the age of 22.

With a self-satisfied smile, Mycroft turned back to his notes. Finally, he would have some peace and qu-.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" came a roar as the door to Mycroft's room flew open and in ran the infuriating midget with Redbeard at his heels and a wooden sword in hand.

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft shouted. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"I am Eric Lerouge and this is Captain Redbeard and we are here to pillage the village of Mycroftton! Give us all your sweets and your life shall be spared!" shrieked Sherlock and Mycroft felt like tearing out his hair.

"Oh for Pete's sake, Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted and slammed his fist on the table. "It's nine o'clock and I am trying to study! Go away!"

Sherlock's nose went red and his chin began to wobble.

Oh God! That was just what Mycroft needed, if there was something that was worse than Loud-and-Annoying Sherlock it was Tearful Sherlock. Annoying Sherlock you could simply send away, lock yourself in your room and wait till the little brat went away. You had to sooth Tearful Sherlock. For some reason Sherlock's loud hiccups and sobs were much more distracting than his shouting.

The little boy was shuffling slowly towards the door with Redbeard no longer bouncing and barking but pressed against the little menace's leg. Mycroft sighed.

"Oh, Sherlock. Sherlock, come here. Come back."

The midget turned around with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Will you play with me, Myc? You could be Tripod, the wooden-legged one, who's very good at geography and Latin and invents stuff," said Sherlock in his most magnanimous tone.

Mycroft closed his eyes and prayed for strength, even though a part of him was very pleased with the compliment from his little brother.

"No, I won't play with you," Mycroft answered and watching the little face fall again, added quickly: "It's too late to play pirate games and you should be in bed. BUT I will tell you a story, if you promise to go to sleep after that."

Again, the black curls bounced as Sherlock nodded vigorously and flung himself on Mycroft's carefully made bed with Redbeard following suit.

Mycroft swallowed his complaint and began his story-telling.

"Once upon a time, there lived a pirate. He was strong, handsome, very hairy and very clever. His name was Redbeard. He was a captain of a small pirate ship that he had to share with a very pesky pest called Eric."

"Hey!" came an offended shout from the bed. 

"Quiet, Sherlock. I'm telling a story. One day, a huge storm came. It wasn't like the other storms though. This one was worse than any other that Redbeard and the Pesky Eric withstood. It came, driven by the great East Wind!"

Mycroft, who was standing by the window looking out for a more dramatic effect, stole a look at his audience. Sherlock was lying on his stomach, eyes round, mouth slightly open, arms wrapped around his dog friend.

"The East Wind," Mycroft began menacingly. "The East Wind is a terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the earth only to throw them into the deepest abysses of the ocean!"

Mycroft paused.

"And it was such a wind that was the driving force behind the storm in which Redbeard's small pirate ship found itself on one ghastly Tuesday morning. It nearly tore the ship apart in search for the one unworthy aboard. However, once it finally had the Pesky Eric in its clutches, it left off and Captain Redbeard and his ship were left alone to rock gently on the now calm waters of the Caribbean."

 

"What happened to Eric?" came a squeak from the bed.

"Oh, he was a pest, so the East Wind threw him back into the deepest ocean far away from the ship," said Mycroft lightly.

"No!" Sherlock gasped and when Mycroft turned around, he saw him, curled up in his blankets, looking very scared.

Good. It was nice to know that he was such a powerful speaker.

"Yes, now go to sleep."

"I can't," Sherlock replied, curling up into a tighter ball.

"Oh, why on earth not? You promised you'd go to sleep after a story," Mycroft asked exasperatedly.

"Yeah, I know," squeaked Sherlock, the sound muffled by having his face hidden in Redbeard's fur. "But I'm scared!"

No good deed ever goes unpunished! What did he do to deserve such an annoying brother?!

"Okay, okay. Eric fell into the ocean far away from Captain Redbeard, but Asterix and Obelix came on their ship and saved him. And using some magical hocus-pocus travelled very fast back to Captain Redbeard and they all lived happily ever after, when Eric promised not to be such an annying pest. Happy?"

Two narrowed eyes looked up at him suspiciously.

"You just made that up!"

"No, I didn't. That's the way it happened."

"And the East Wind never came back again?"

"No, it never came back again." Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Will you go to sleep now?"

Receiving a nod in reply, Mycroft sat at his desk and started to read his notes from the beginning.

"Myyyyycroft?"

"Oh, what now?!"

"Can I sleep in your room tonight? I left a window open in mine and there's wind outside. I don't want the East Wind to take me!"

Mycroft closed his eyes and counted to ten.

No good deed ever goes unpunished, indeed. Here he was, being a good big brother, telling the little pest a bedtime story and this is the thanks he receives from the universe?!

"I suppose so."

"And can Redbeard stay too? He'll be good, I promise!" came Sherlock's plaintive voice again.

"Alright, alright! Just shut your mouth and sleep already."

Later that night, Mycroft changed into his pyjamas and squeezed himself on the bed next to his little brother who, he realised, had managed to transform himself into an octopus in the few hours of sleep, hogging the blankets, limbs everywhere.

"Myyyyc?" came a slurred whisper.

"I thought you were asleep, Sherlock."

"I was, woke up when you started bouncing on the mattress."

"Go back to sleep, Sherlock."

"I was just wondering, do you think the other one will fit here with us, too?"

"What other one, Sherlock?"

"Our other brother, silly. I heard Mummy talking about him coming in few months."

"Oh." Mycroft let out, surprised. How had he missed this?

"Maybe we should ask Mummy to buy you a new bed, so that he would fit here."

"Yeah, maybe we should." Mycroft consented without giving it much thought, still in shock from this new discovery. So he would have another little brother? Another one?! He could barely handle the one that was currently taking up almost the whole space on his king sized bed. What was the world coming to?!


End file.
